Feels familiar?
Yes. 'STUPIDITY' is the name I adopted for fun and anonymity sake on the web, but this word isn't at all found in Dictionary of Ivy's Self Description. That is to say, I am not as stupidity implies.
Cold as my words may be, but they are true. From the first faint hint that materialized beneath thick veils, I've already seen through. I saw through every layer of veil which was deliberately cast over the truth - everything that was beneath. Things materialize over time, and over time the more you deny, the more you expose.
And in the end, being whiney isn't the best way to get others to sympathize with you and have things going your way. For all you know, they may as well be too disgusted and turn the other direction away from you. Wow, then you lose it, lose it all.
And on the topic of stupidity, I could not believe how true my words can be. It's stunning to find that the very hypothesis I proposed (in my mind, of course) is true. Yeah to know that I got it correct is surprising, and the realization of the consequences coming in full force to me (all no thanks to my correct hypothesis) is scary.
Problems come in seasons. True indeed. Whilst I was busying myself helping people around me analyse tacky situations, I unknowingly planted myself in the middle of this vortex of confusion and guilt. It's spinning up, increasingly fast, and I'm in the middle, speechless and let it engulf me whole.
Like a trial, I'm charged and standing in this vortex, where spectators crowd nearby and watch. I could see no one in my defense. Because I've got no alibi. All I saw were lines the prosecutor said to prove me guilty, and evidences from the past which were not in my favour either. Fingers poking and pointing at my face, angry faces of people screaming "GUILTY! GUILTY!". They form the very vortex that prevented me from stepping into the light and prove me innocent.
And the effect is here. Even I myself am convinced that my alibi does not exist.
You're guilty. You should be punished. So the prosecutor was right. I AM THE MURDERER. The murderer who murdered others' dreams. The murderer who murdered fantasies.
But did I kill because I'm a psycho and shatter everyone's dreams indiscriminately? Or Have I got a reason for such atrocity?
Either way, dreams are shattered. Because of me. And what more can I say to redeem myself? I can only wait, at a cold corner of my cell, for the day to come, whereby people start seeing THE REASON.
